


Cockroach Vignette #2: Calling (Lose My Mind)

by BigSciencyBrain



Series: Refuge [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigSciencyBrain/pseuds/BigSciencyBrain





	Cockroach Vignette #2: Calling (Lose My Mind)

A dream woke Steve before dawn. 

Eyes barely open, he fumbled for the painkillers the SHIELD doctors had prescribed and choked them down without water. Out of habit, he reached for his sketchbook. Then he remembered that he was lying in a bed at the very motel that haunted his dreams. He stayed still until his heart stopped racing, staring up at the ceiling.

The therapist had told him that it would take time. He had to be patient. At least, until SHIELD decided he was too much of a liability.

Shaking off those thoughts, he forced himself up and out of bed. He pulled on shorts, a t-shirt, socks, and a pair of sturdy running shoes. There was no gym and no punching bag; he’d make do with what he had. He took the back stairs to the side entrance that opened into the gardens. The early morning air was chilled and already thickening with the usual morning fog. There was light beginning to creep into the eastern sky and it was enough for him to make his way around the side of the motel.

Highway One was a narrow, twisting, two lane road passing by the motel. This early in the morning, there was little traffic to navigate as he ran. He turned north, away from the lights of the Bridge and the city.

If only he could run until he left the dreams behind.

Miles flew by; the sun rose. He turned around after the morning fog had burned away and started back. The running helped; he didn’t feel nearly as overwhelmed by the time he reached the motel and slipped through the side entrance. His stomach was beginning to let him know that he needed to eat. He stripped off the sweaty clothes and headed for the bathroom. It took a few minutes for the shower to run hot.

The feeling of déjà vu was so strong when he stepped into the shower that he froze, unable to move for several minutes. He knew – _he knew_ – that he’d been there before.

He filled his hands with water and splashed it against his face. It was impossible. He’d never been to San Francisco. There was no way he could’ve been there. He grabbed the soap and scrubbed at his skin, as if he could wash away the sense of familiarity. 

_How many times have we done this?_

_Not enough._

The soap slipped from his fingers and he had to reach out to brace himself against the tile. It felt real. He could remember; his body remembered the feel of strong fingers combing through his hair, sliding over his shoulders and back, and then –

He shook his head, trying to shake the images out of his mind.

He showered faster than he’d ever showered before, even during the War, and fled the bathroom as quickly as possible. His heart was still racing as he toweled off and pulled on clean clothes. 

Any longer in that motel room and he thought he’d go insane.

The restaurant was just as cozy and welcoming as the inn itself, with the same dark wood and elegant furnishings. He ordered without paying much attention. Once the waitress left, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and set it on the table. He hadn’t done more than text Natasha the night before to let her know that he’d arrived. A conversation was more than he could handle.

What was he doing?

He focused on breathing and not panicking until the waitress returned with his order. Then he focused on eating and swallowing.

Coming to San Francisco had been a mistake.

Once he’d eaten and paid for the meal, he headed straight for the rental car. He was half tempted to simply return to the airport and escape the claustrophobic déjà vu that he couldn’t shake off. Instead, he drove into the city and found a place to park. Perhaps he could lose himself in the city and the crowds. He found a tourist shop and bought a guidebook, determined to convince himself that he’d never set foot in the city before.

He walked, determined, from place to place, marking them off in the guidebook as he went. He saw the Fine Arts Museum and the Museum of Modern Art; he walked through Chinatown and the Farmer’s Market. The feeling of déjà vu never fully left, but most of what he saw felt new and unfamiliar.

A couple stopped him on his way back to the rental car and asked for directions to a sandwich shop their friends had recommended. He tried to smile as politely as possible. “Follow Market down to 16th and take a left. It’s on the right side, about a block down.”

They thanked him and headed on their way.

Steve stood on the sidewalk for several minutes before his feet would move again. He made it back to the rental car and sat in the driver’s seat until the sun had begun to dip toward the ocean. Finally, he forced his fingers to work enough to open the guidebook and turn to a section that he knew he hadn’t read. He found the sandwich shop listed in the restaurant section and then turned to the map, looking for the address. The air around him seemed to go perfectly still, while the guidebook pages crinkled as his hands shook.

How had he known where the sandwich shop was?

He threw the guidebook into the passenger seat and dug his cell phone out of his jacket pocket, dialing Natasha’s number with trembling fingers.

She picked up on the second ring. “Steve? Everything okay?”

“I’ve been here before. I had to have been here before.” He closed his eyes and leaned forward until his forehead rested on the steering wheel. “I know this city, Natasha. I know about things that didn’t even exist before the ice. How could I know about them?”

“Steve, just calm down.”

“I don’t know what’s happening, Nat. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve been here. I know I’ve been here and I…I…” he swallowed down the rest of the words. 

He knew he hadn’t been alone.

“You need to call Doctor Stern. You know that you can call him any time, day or night.”

“No, no.” He shook his head, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Not until I can make sense of it. I have to. I have to figure this out.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” she said softly. “I can be there in a few hours. If you need us there, we’ll be there. Tony’s been itching to get back to California anyway.”

“No,” he said too quickly. “Thank you. I just…I need to do this myself.”

“Are you okay?” She sounded genuinely concerned.

He took a deep breath. He’d been asking himself the same question. Was he okay? The thought of returning to the motel room made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Could he be haunted? There were enough strange occurrences that SHIELD dealt with every day that he figured he couldn’t rule out possession or being haunted by spirits. Maybe these were someone else’s memories and he was just an unfortunate bystander.

“Steve?”

“I’m fine.” He took a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m fine. It’s just been a long day. I think, maybe I got too much sun.”

“Make sure you stay hydrated. And Steve,” she hesitated for a moment. “You can call me anytime. You know that.”

“I know.” Another deep breath. “Thank you. I’ll see you guys soon.”

He ended the call and sat in the car until his hands stopped shaking. He took the long way back to the motel and it was twilight before he pulled into the parking lot. The old man waved from behind the front desk and he tried to muster a smile as he passed by. In the motel room, the silence felt heavy, as though it was waiting for the sound of an impossible voice. Leaving the room lights off, he made his way to the bed in darkness and sat down.

If his dreams – could they be memories? – of San Francisco were real then he had to consider that the rest of the dreams were real as well. He raked his fingers through his hair, frustrated and confused. That he and Loki had been lovers seemed the most impossible of all. 

_I love you, Loki. No matter what happens. Never forget that I love you._

_I won’t. I haven’t._

Sudden pain throbbed behind his eyes, doubling him over as he clutched at the sides of his head. He stumbled to his feet and fumbled at the bedside lamp to turn it on. None of SHIELD’s doctors had been able to explain why Steve was getting headaches at all, let alone sudden migraines that nearly knocked him to the floor.

He managed to get a glass of water and swallowed down more painkillers. Shivering against the pain, he curled up on the bed and prayed for sleep without dreams.


End file.
